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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145841">Three Less In The Choir</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterbridge/pseuds/winterbridge'>winterbridge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Tellius Week 2020, also mentions of more mercs, most notably Boyd snoring, ship content is only very mild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:21:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterbridge/pseuds/winterbridge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Titania Pov] It is a dazzling song of many, taught by none and known by all; a chorus that every single one of them joins in on, without a single missing. Never did she pay attention, and it makes her heart both incredibly lonely and together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kilroy | Rhys/Tiamat | Titania</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Three Less In The Choir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is barely any dawn yet when she comes to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky is still an inky blue with but the faintest stroke of copper at its breech. Within the no-light of the broad room, all she can make out are the faint shapes of the blanketed mercenaries and the sound of their sleeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boyd still rumbles slightly, like he had on the eve before, a snore enough to cause consternation in their youngest and for the brothers to begin their usual circle of squabbling. All three now still seem to be sound asleep (their middle still with a little more sound than the other two), and as she counts the quieter among them, too, she comes to realizations twofold. One, she might be earliest today; two, even now she still tries to account for three more members than they have left to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps her waking was an instinct, because it was often only at the crook of dawn that, escapades ended, Shinon and Gatrie would return to the fort, loud and drunk and singing and <em>home</em>. Perhaps her rest had just been waiting, even knowing that they'd come not, and perhaps the real return her heart could not let go of -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a sickening lurch in her gut, and she abruptly turns as if to counterstir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is the first time in a while they've slept abed. Their tents and rolls have been kindly stowed away in the storage cellar, their horses set astable, and they themselves, just for the night, keep the entire communal sleeping area the inn has. It is one normally to be shared between different travelers at a price lower than the rooms, but is now occupied by the full ranks of their company, the hall serendipitously left empty by the march of war having long pushed the frightened populace to steer clear of this area.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>War.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is about to sink away in the quag of that thought when there comes minute movement from the bed beside hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"- Good morning, Titania."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is ever soft, yet even in its murmur unmistakable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"- Rhys!" She keeps low, but in the surprise of being pulled from her pondering. "... Did I just wake you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She imagines the light shake of his head she cannot see. "No, I was already. Please don't worry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now knowing he's awake, she shifts slightly closer to the edge of her bed. "Did you not sleep well? Was it a fever? Are you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's hard to make out, but it sounds like he stifles a quiet laughter. "I'm well, Titania. I'm always up early. I just heard the birds today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The birds? …"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mentions them, and she stills herself. It is only then, beyond the light and threadbare curtains, she begins to make out their chitter. Close by, one sings a lilting little tune; further, there are those that mirror it, rousing in a gentle, cheerful joy. It is a dazzling song of many, taught by none and known by all; a chorus that every single one of them joins in on, without a single missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never did she pay attention, and it makes her heart both incredibly lonely and together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... You're right …"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should be up and praying, but I couldn't pull myself away. ... I'm sorry, dallying like this-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-No, I'm glad." She thanks the receding night and the silence its dim blanket still necessitates, because whispering leaves her tone not as thick. "I never listened before. It's very nice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems as if he scoots up, too; a little closer to her, and a little closer to his birds. It is a first for her, but he always hears them, she now realizes: it is light and song that rouse him on the morn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She herself ever favored sunset, thinking to sink her hurt of the day below the edge of the earth together with the sun, burying it below the dark of night to never think of it again. </span>
  <span>Now she's oddly overcome, as if her heart yearns to learn not to feel as lonely as it does inevitably at the cold, fresh dew of dawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"- ... Are you alright, Titania?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reads well, even in the shade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-Yes, I'm ... It's alright." And yet despite her warding, there is great comfort in him being awake with her in this conversation. The words trickle down upon the morning like the benignly wakening sun and dissipate the hardness in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dreads the despair that will return if this gentle birdsong now comes to an end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her patting motion on the mattress is invisible but lightly audible. "-Do you - want to come here for a bit? It might be more easy - we can talk-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a deep silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"- Oh!" Only then does she recognize what she's invited him to, and there is a fluster to her just as there is to him a stun. "-I'm sorry, that's very silly, I didn't- …"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... No, it simply …"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the lull of the room, the many sleeping breaths among them, she hears a single quiet creak underneath the first note of an avian soprano's oeuvre, and then her mattress dents a little at the rim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... I can sit here. I don't mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes herself up, affected by a sudden bashful modesty, and yet nonetheless finds herself smiling at the vaguely grey silhouette a foot or two away from her, crested with an orange-tinged halo. "I'm really sorry, Rhys. I ... I was simply thinking ..."<br/><br/></span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span><br/>"— Captain? Captain?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes snap open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light in the room around her has amplified to one of 7, 8 bells into the day, and she not makes out shapes, but full colors now, from arms dangling off the bedpost to hair peeking out underneath blankets. Her renewed, immediate counting is instinctive: compared to her first waking, the beds are missing two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them is Oscar, who, already well into his combat garb, is standing at her bedside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She again feels her heart seized, but it's a little hard to pinpoint by exactly what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"— Good morning, Captain."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar's face is ever temperate, and in its mildness sometimes hard to read. There is, however, most unmistakably a glint of mischief danced about his brow as he clemently watches on while their flustered Vice-Commander attempts to delicately pry her shoulder out from underneath the cheek of a still snoozing Rhys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought I'd wake you before anyone else got up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, I—" It is an extremely pernickety balance, doing one's best to not roughly wake a healer in your flurry but also getting out the bed post-haste. "... Thank you, Oscar. I will be— If you've finished your own preparations, please begin saddling the horses. I will be right with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mislikes that sparkle he still has. "Of course, Captain. Understood."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moments after she's left the room, she begins hearing their voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning ... Huh? Hey, Rhys — Didn't you get that other bed last night? ..."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[ To Soque, who rightly noted that the prompt "(Death/Dedication/)Dazzling" could describe none other than Titania. ]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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